Destination, Determination, Deliberation
by quid.agis
Summary: Blaise Zabini has to take Apparation lessonsAGAIN!When some nasty and irreversible splinching occurs, Blaize is forced to cope with the humiliation that comes with it.


A/N:I don't own any of the characters in the Harry Potter series (sadly), but i do own the plot. :)

* * *

"Now, remember, children, the three D's. Destination, Determination, Deliberation."

Wilkie Twycross strode through the rows of sixth years and their hoops, correcting mistakes and watching the student's feeble attempts to disappear and rematerialize into the wooden rings in front of them.

It was quite disheartening, really. Even after eight weeks of lessons, not one of the multitude of students had managed apparition. To his disgust, there were even a few students who hadn't grasped the technique the previous year and had come back for more.

Gregory Goyle, Vincent Crabbe, and, much to everyone's surprise, Blaise Zabini had not even managed half a spin towards the hoop into which they were supposed to be materializing into.

_It really is quite embarrassing,_ thought Twycross, as he walked by.

* * *

An hour later, the three Slytherins retired to their common room and slumped onto the silver couches by the fire. Blaise noticed, out of the corner of his eye, that a gaggle of girls of all ages were shooting him looks and giggling profusely.

He was used to this. Ever since his fifth year, girls had been giving him a lot of attention. And they weren't all from Slytherin house.

Getting up, Blaise sauntered over to the group, putting on his sexiest, haughtiest expression. He felt the girls swoon at the sight of him.

"Evening, girls."

The girls fell into a fit of shy giggles. One of them stepped out of the crowd.

It was Pansy Parkinson. Blaise hated her. Face like a pug and wits to match. Disgusting.

"Hey, Zabini, fancy a walk, or a closet?" She was advancing on him.

Blaise stared at her. Did she honestly think that he wanted to go anywhere with her, especially into a closet?

He smirked at her ruefully. He liked all of the attention, and he had a reputation to uphold.

"Out of luck, Parkinson. I'm booked. And anyways, what's this I hear about you shagging Draco? I can't have a girlfriend who's a two-timer, love."

Blaise could almost see the cogs turning in Pansy's head. He loved seeing her think. It seemed to almost pain her.

When Pansy retreated into the crowd of girls, he gave her up as a bad job and walked away.

* * *

Up in his dormitory, Blaise saw Draco rummaging around in his trunk for something.

"Hey, Zabini, have you seen a lurid pink bandana lying around somewhere?" There was a note of panic in his cold drawl. Blaise shook his head.

"Why?"

"I was going to give it to Pansy. I soaked it in Felix Felicis, you know, so when she wears it, she becomes lucky. But I lost it."

"It'll turn up eventually," came Blaises' uninterested reply.

"It'd better. Oh, the first Quidditch match of the season is in three weeks, ok? Madam Hooch just told me."

"Cool," Blaise said as Draco left the dormitory to look for the bandana.

Quidditch was a new hobby for Blaise. He had tried out for the past couple of years, and finally got the position of keeper. Of course, with Draco being captain, he had had an unfair advantage, _but who cares_, _I am a Slytherin, after all, _He thought as he descended the dormitory stairs, headed for practice.

* * *

"Omigod. He is _sooo_ hot."

"Have you seen his pecs?"

"If he even looked at me, I think I'd die.

Pansy Parkinson turned away from the group of gossiping girls. She really was tired of them, and anyway, she already had a boyfriend. A handsome and rich one at that. But she didn't care about him anymore. Pansy had been over Draco Malfoy for months. But the more she tried to let go, the more he held on. In Ron Weasley's words, it was like going out with the giant squid.

Why did she know what that filthy blood-traitor had said? Ah, well. Life was full of conundrums. Such as how to tell if a shoe was on the right foot. Pansy had never quite figured that one out.

She walked away, hoping to go wacth the Slytherin Quidditch Team practice. Seven green-clad males bursting with testosterone, robes billowing around them. Beautiful.

* * *

A/N:any reviews are appreciated. I am up for constructive criticism and story ideas!

Cheers! Q.A.


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